


Light a Candle

by TrekTraveler



Series: The Samantha MacKade Chronicles [5]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:34:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25624492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrekTraveler/pseuds/TrekTraveler
Summary: Julian Bashir is one of the best doctors in Starfleet, but even the best doctors have bad days and need to be cared for.  Will he allow Samantha MacKade to step into the shoes he so often fills?
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Samantha MacKade Chronicles [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1616893
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

“Well, that’s the last of it,” Chief O’Brien said, wiping his hands on his pants as he climbed out of the access tunnel. “Anything else can bloody well wait until tomorrow.”

Sam MacKade helped the chief reattach the panel that would seal the tunnel for the night, “So long as you’re sure. Those plasma coils looked a bit worse for wear.”

“I replaced the core shielding,” Miles replied with a heavy sigh, “They’ll hold until we can replace them.”

Sam only nodded as they made their way out of the docking ring. She felt like a piece of worn rope, every muscle protested from overuse and her mind was cycling between engineering calculations and numbing mush. She and the chief, along with the rest of O’Brien’s crews, had been working for nearly 19 hours straight. Ever since that Bajoran transport crashed into the side of the station, they had been going at a break-neck pace to contain the breach and seal the massive gaping hole left by the collision. It was one hell of a mess to be sure and it showed on the weary faces trudging home for the night. 

Miles cast her a side glance, bleary-eyed, wisps of dark hair escaping her utilitarian braid, smudges of dirt and oil on her forest green jumpsuit, across her brow and down one cheek. She didn’t look all that different from those long-ago days on the Enterprise. “You did well today, MacKade.”

Startled out of her wandering thoughts, she smiled and patted him on the shoulder, “I am merely a credit to your flawless instruction.”

The chief chuckled as they reached the turbolift. When she didn’t follow him into the lift, he tilted his head, “Not going home?”

“Not yet, I’m actually a bit wired,” she replied, “Thought I’d take a few laps around the Prominade to unwind.”

“Well, be sure you get plenty of rest,” Miles advised, “Tomorrow we move on to those coils. And pylon coupling. And the air lock shielding.”

Sam gave a mocking salute, “I will be there with bells on.”

Miles saluted her in return, “Habitat ring.”

Sam walked a bit aimlessly through the deserted Prominade. It was well past 0300 hours and all the store fronts and cafes were closed. No one was lingering outside the Bajoran Shrine. She let the welcome quiet envelope her as she strolled, her thoughts unwinding along with the tightened muscles in her back and legs. A movement caught her eye as she passed the stasis room that functioned as DS9’s morgue. She recognized one of the nurses there, putting a body into one of the stasis chambers. Seeing three more bodies laying under sheets behind him, Sam made a b-line for the Infirmary. There had been a dozen or more passengers on that crashed shuttle, all of them had been beamed directly to Infirmary for medical treatment. Having been so preoccupied with the repairs, she never bothered to check on how they had gotten along.

Walking into the Infirmary, the scene there said it all. Only a single nurse remained from the triage staff, working in silence as she disinfected a tray of instruments. None of the bio-beds were occupied, she realized. Meaning either everyone had been treated and released or they had not survived. The nurse paused and met Sam’s gaze with a sad one of her own, giving a slight shake of her head, the nurse turned back to her work. Worry building, she quickly walked back to Julian’s office only to find it empty. 

Maybe he’s gone home for the night. She thought hopefully. “Computer locate Dr. Bashir,” she instructed, trying to ignore the feeling of dread in her stomach.

“Dr. Bashir is in the Infirmary.”

Fears confirmed, she made a brief search of his office and located his comm badge in the middle desk drawer. “Damn,” she muttered, sticking the badge in her pocket as she left the Infirmary. If he had gone to his quarters, he would have taken the badge with him and simply turned it off. Sam strode purposefully down the corridor, trying to let her intuition guide her. If Julian really didn’t want to be found, there was a good chance he wouldn’t be. Bashir could be both stealthy and stubborn if he had a mind to be. Going on a hunch, Sam turned off towards Quark’s. She paused outside the closed doors, there was no light coming from inside the empty bar but after a minute or two Sam heard a soft thunk. Then two more. 

She used her backdoor code to gain entrance and following the sound she spotted him. Uniform sleeves rolled up to the elbow, science’s blue undershirt unzipped at the neck and a look of controlled fury on his face, Julian stood throwing darts with the precision of a Romulan sniper. 

Sam sat at the high-top table where a mostly empty bottle of Irish whiskey stood next to a used tumbler. “Mind if I pour myself a drink?”

He didn’t pause in his assault on the dart board, “Help yourself.”

Pouring herself two fingers, she tossed back the shot and left a familiar burn in her throat. She watched him score bullseye after bullseye, never pausing except to retrieve his darts. “I can see why O’Brien makes you stand five feet behind when the two of you play, you’re an expert marksman.”

He let a dart fly, “Just a cheat of genetic engineering. If he was really after a fair game, he should have me stand on my head.”

“Was this a full bottle when you started?”

“Did you come here to interrogate my drinking as well as my dart playing or are you making small talk?” Julian spat, throwing off two more darts, “Because I am not in the mood.”

Sam watched him stalk over to the board and snatch the darts back. “Actually, I just finished with the repair crews in the docking bay,” she said calmly, “I took a walk to unwind before bed and I passed the Infirmary.”

Julian paused, but did not look over. 

“It was empty.”

Julian tossed off three darts in quick succession, “Yes, it is.”

When he didn’t say anything else Sam sighed softly, “Julian…”

“Don’t,” he instructed, his tone harsh, “Just don’t. I didn’t come here to be comforted, consoled, or counseled. I came here to drink whiskey and play darts so if you aren’t going to be conducive to that, leave.” 

He crossed to the table and filled the glass to the brim and tossed it back. He filled it again and downed it just as quickly. Then he simply stood there, two hands braced on the table and his head bowed. “Eleven,” he said after a long pause, “Eleven people were transferred into my care from that shuttle and eleven of them died.”

Sam reached over and covered his hand with hers. He allowed the gesture of comfort only for a moment before snatching his hand away and returning to his dart game. He fired off three darts, “Acute radiation poisoning was the primary cause, although there were a few lost to 3rd and 4th degree burns. I’m guessing that plasma coil combusted on impact and flooded though the shuttle in a matter of seconds.” Julian paused to retrieve more darts, “It would have made it a virtual gas chamber.”

“There was a child on that shuttle.” He looked over at Sam, her green eyes widened and filled with sorrow. “Did you know?” When she shook her head wordlessly, he broke his gaze and took his throwing stance, “She was six. No burns or poisoning. She had asthma.” Thunk, thunk, thunk, three darts flew, “It should have saved her actually, the constricting of her bronchial tubes kept the plasma gas from entering her system. But I couldn’t restore her respiratory functions.”

Her heart broke for him. Losing any patient was difficult, but to lose so many and one of them a child. Julian Bashir was the epitome of medical professionalism, but everyone had a breaking point. “You did everything you could.”

Julian only shook his head, his face distorting with anger, “I failed. And do you know what’s worse? She had never been treated for her condition.”

“What do you mean?”

“I conducted the micro-cellular scan myself, that girl was born with a serious, but correctable medical condition and she had never once been treated for it. Not once!” He punctuated his disgust with another bullseye, “That was why her reaction was so severe. This was a preventable death, Samantha.”

“Maybe,” she allowed, “But that doesn’t make it your fault, Julian.”

“No? Who shall we assign the blame to?” he asked, his tone sharp as a laser scalpel. “Let’s blame the Cardassians! After all, they kept Bajor under the heel of their boot for the better part of a century, denied them basic rights like access to medicine. Oh! Or… we could blame the Bajorans!” Julian threw another dart, warming up to his tirade, “They choose to live in ignorance, referring to the alleged will of wormhole aliens by calling them Prophets.”

He paused and tossed a look of distain her way, “Or I could take a page from your book and blame Starfleet. In their benevolence and wisdom, they continue to deny my requests to develop hospitals and clinics that are so desperately needed in those out-lying provinces.” Julian hurled the last dart with such force that it buried itself half-way up the shaft. The board lit up and gave a low-pitched whine, then went dark. In his frustration, the doctor strode up to it and punched the dart board with his fist, causing it to clatter to the floor in pieces. 

He simply stood there, head bowed, chest heaving. Not saying a word. There were no more words to say. Nothing would take away the pain of this day and nothing would bring back the girl, or any of the people who died. It was needless, it was senseless, and it was preventable. Feeling Sam’s light touch on his shoulder, he spun around and grabbed her wrist like a vise. To her credit, she didn’t flinch or shrink away. Her steady gaze held his and reflected only trust and kindness. Saying nothing, she brought up her free hand and cupped his cheek. He broke then., dropped his chin to his chest and wept. 

Sam drew him into her embrace, let him bury his face in the crook of her neck. He held onto her like a man adrift at sea. She stood unwavering, strong, and serene as he let go the anger and the pain. She took the burden of his sorrow and after a time, he was able to breathe again. 

When all his tears were spent, he drew back and she looked up at him with a small smile, “Come. Let’s go home.”

Julian was numb now that his emotions were spent. He couldn’t form a thought, so he complied. Letting her wrap her arm around his torso, he leaned heavily on her shoulders and she led him out of the bar. He didn’t remember the walk to his quarters or entering the dimly lit rooms. He sat on the side of his bed now and she knelt in front of him, removing his boots and socks. He stared absently at the top of her head, taking notice that she was softly humming. It was a tune he didn’t recognize but it was pleasant and soothing. 

Sam stood and removed Julian’s uniform jacket, easing it off his shoulders and down his arms. He wasn’t doing much to help her in the task, but he wasn’t fighting her either and she took that as a positive sign. She folded the garment in half and tossed it over the back of a chair then pulled back the bed covers and eased Julian down onto the pillow. She tucked the blankets up to his chin and tenderly ran a hand over his cheek. When she pulled away, presumably to retire to her own room, Julian reached out and caught her hand.

She looked down quizzically, “Its alright, Julian. You can sleep now.”

He squeezed her hand in reply, “Please.”

Understanding his request, she kicked off her own shoes and silently climbed into bed beside him. At long last, both of them utterly exhausted, they slept.


	2. Even Doctors get Hangovers

When Julian woke the following morning, he felt tired, almost as if he hadn’t slept at all. He laid there for a long while, keeping his eyes closed and trying to recall details from the previous night. Some were clear, some not so much but judging from the dull headache behind his eyes and the desert in his mouth, alcohol obviously played a part. A large part, with his genetic enhancements, he wasn’t often subject to hangovers. He stretched in the bed and it was then he realized that he wasn’t alone. An arm was draped over his chest and a delicate hand encased in his rested over his heart. Instantly, missing memories clicked into place. Sam had found him a drunken mess in Quark’s. He had lashed out at her in his grief and she just let him. Let him shout and rage against the cruelty of the universe. Let him pour out his heart on her shoulder. Then she had practically carried him back to his quarters and tucked him into bed like a little boy. 

He could feel her soft, steady breathing against his back. He now remembered asking her to stay and so she had. Yesterday had been a long, hard day for her too but that didn’t stop her from taking care of him when he really needed it. Slowly, so not to wake her, Julian extracted himself from her embrace and tucked her hand back under the blankets. Looking down at her, she seemed very young to have been so strong for him. Dark lashes rested against cheeks rosy from sleep, she sighed slightly and snuggled further into the pillow. 

Julian ran a hand over the day-old stubble on his face, combined with the partial uniform he was still wearing he suddenly longed for a shower. He paused on his way to the bathroom, noticing two large glasses of water on his bedside table along with his comm badge. 

Parched, he downed one glass and recognized the combination of electrolytes, carbohydrates, and sodium. It was his own formula, programed into the replicators on the station for anyone needing extra hydration. 

Smart girl, he thought, taking the other glass with him, she didn’t miss a trick.

By the time Julian finished with his shower and shave, the hyper-hydrated water had done its job and he felt much more human. He donned a fresh uniform and returned to the bedroom to find the bed empty and neatly made up for the day. Tantalizing scents of warm pastries and tea wafted in from the living room and his stomach growled loudly in response. 

Sam smiled up at him when he entered, she was sitting cross-legged in his over-sized chair. She had undone her braid so her hair hung in long waves down her back. A large bowl of multi-colored shapes floating in milk sat in her lap and a mug of raktajino was stationed on the table beside her. She presented an intriguing combination of child and adult. “Good morning.”

Feeling a bit shy, Julian sat on the sofa adjacent to her, “Good morning.”

“I assume you are still a creature of habit even after a night of whiskey,” she said slurping her raktajino, “So I ordered your standard tea and scones.”

Grateful for the normalcy, Julian plucked the silver lid from the tray in front of him and found his favorites. He started with the tea, closing his eyes in appreciation. “Oh… you are a wise woman.”

She snorted in response, “Care to put that on the record?”

“Anytime.”

She only smiled in response and turned her attention back to the bowl in her lap.

Julian tilted his head, “What are you eating?”

“Lucky Charms,” she answered, her mouth half full.

“What in the world are Lucky Charms?” he asked, eyeing the suspiciously colored breakfast.

“It’s a kids cereal, very popular when I was growing up. I had a hell of a time programming it into the replicators,” she informed him, “Its devoid of pretty much all nutritional content, but it has a lot of sugar in it. I don’t know about you, but I am not going to be able to function on caffeine alone today. Do you want to try it?”

Julian wrinkled his nose in distaste, “Absolutely not.”

She merely shrugged, “Suit yourself.”

He watched her in slight fascination as she worked though her breakfast. She ate the crunchy bits first then the marshmallows, separating them by color. When all that remained was the milk, she brought the bowl to her mouth and drained it dry. As she dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin, he noticed a streak of dirt across her cheek.

“You’ve got something there,” he pointed out.

Eyes widened in slight embarrassment, and she rubbed vigorously in the wrong spot.

He chuckled as he dipped his own napkin in his water glass. “Here, let me,” taking her chin in his hand, he turned her head slightly and wiped the smudge away.

“Hells bells,” she muttered when she saw how much schmutz was left on the napkin, “I am a mess.”

Before Julian could comment, her comm badge sounded, “O’Brien to MacKade.”

She tapped the badge, “Go ahead Chief.”

“Morning lady, do you happen to have an extra parametric scanner or two in your collection? We’re starting on the plasma coil and running into more of a tangle we bargained for.”

Sam pinched the bridge of her nose as she closed her eyes in thought. Knowing her as he did, Julian recognized it as an old gesture of weariness. He was suddenly aware of the shadows of fatigue she could no longer disguise. Yesterday was long, today would be too and Samantha MacKade was going to commit her substantial talents to helping anywhere she was needed. 

Last night, she had pulled from a reserve of astounding strength and compassion to care for him, despite the exhaustion that was now obvious. Julian was a bit in awe really and inspired. If she could pull herself together and do her job, so could he.

Sam took a quick inventory of her tools in her head, “Um, yeah. Actually, I do. I’ll, ah, swing by my lab and pick them up. Be there in five.” She paused to look down at her wrinkled and dirty clothes she was still wearing from yesterday, “Make that ten.”

Miles knew Sam well, punctuality never was her strong suit, “See you in twenty. O’Brien out.”

Julian was already returning the dishes to the replicator when she stood and gave her back a good stretch, “Time to make the donuts.”

He shook off the confusion her slang could sometimes bring, “I assume that’s 20th century speak for get to work?”

“You do catch on quick, Bashir,” she returned, then stopped him at the door. “Hold it, let me take a look at you.”

Julian complied, amused as she made a visual assessment.

“Chin up, back straight, shoulders square,” she instructed, brushing imaginary pieces of lint from his uniform. His dark eyes still bared the slight shadow of grief, but he was much improved over his condition last night. There was a clarity in him now as he stood proud and tall, filling out the uniform as an officer should. Yes, she thought, He’s back on track now.

Julian arched an eyebrow and she smiled, “Well, you look like a doctor to me.”

He chuckled at her appraisal, “Looking like a doctor is half the battle.”

The door to his quarters hissed open as they approached. He reached over and caught her arm, stopping her from leaving. “Samantha, I wanted to apologize about my sorry state last night.”

“Apologize?” she repeated, “For having a very understandable reaction to a traumatic event?” 

“For taking it out on you,” he said, regret coloring his voice, “It wasn’t fair and I’m sorry.”

“Julian, you have nothing to apologize for,” she replied, reaching up to cup his cheek just as she did last night, “You reacted as a human being, I would have you no other way.”

“You didn’t have to take care of me like you did, I know it didn’t make it easy.”

She only smiled, “Of course I didn’t have to, I wanted to. You were hurting, there was no place else I’d be.”

Julian was still considering her words when he walked into his Infirmary. A few members of his staff were already there waiting for him; their faces solemn and eyes guarded. He wasn’t the only one who had experienced a loss yesterday. He squared his posture and found his purpose again. There was more to being a doctor than looking like one, it was time he acted like one.


	3. To Heal the Healer

Three days had passed since the shuttle accident and Julian Bashir had thrown himself into his work. He practically sequestered himself in the Infirmary, taking all his meals in his office, busying himself with all sorts of unnecessary reports and diagnostic simulations. He even reorganized the pharmacy in his desperation to stay occupied. 

It was on the third day when his head nurse Jabara banished him for twenty-four consecutive hours. “If you even think about setting foot here during that time, I’m going straight to Captain Sisko!” 

There was no doubt in Julian’s mind that the petite Bajoran woman would make good on her threat. Her angelic appearance disguised a will of steel. It was that exact reason he had promoted her all those years ago.

As he aimlessly strolled the Promenade, he noticed several people filing into the Bajoran Shrine. There was a lantern lit at the entrance, indicating that there was a service starting. Julian stopped in his tracks and considered veering off into Quark’s or perhaps even wandering through Ops. 

“There is a service being held at the Shrine for the people lost in the accident,” Sam told him when she stopped by his office. “I’ll be going with Kira. Captain Sisko is likely going to be there and I think Dax might too.”  
“I’m sure that will be a lovely tribute,” Julian said, not looking up from his computer.  
“I thought you might go with us.”  
“Doctors don’t usually attend the funerals of patients they lost, Sam,” he explained as kindly as he could, “It’s just not done.”  
“There are exceptions,” she quietly pointed out, “I think it may help. This time.”  
He looked up into her earnest gaze and nearly agreed before his better judgement stopped him, “I appreciate it. Truly. But trust me, its best that I don’t.”

Julian remembered the face of every patient he ever lost; it was a curse of his genetic engineering. Total recall. He didn’t have the luxury of choice. It was true that a physician attending services for a patient was considered taboo. His med school professors had all advised against it and many of his colleagues followed that same practice. After all, death was the ultimate failure of their professional care and no one liked to dwell on that. Besides, Julian wasn’t exactly a man of faith. Science was his religion. He found comfort for his grief in the very work of doctoring. He didn’t win every battle against death, but when he did it gave meaning to the struggle and made those losses a bit more bearable. 

Logical reasons all, for him to keep on walking. Yet, he didn’t. He paused then followed the soft, lyrical music coming from inside the temple. The shrine was beautifully decorated in rich tones of red and gold and housed one of the famed Orbs of the Prophets. Thick incense hung in the air, floating over the seated crowd. Today it was packed full of people, only a few of them were not Bajoran. Julian picked out Sam seated towards the front next to Kira and Dax. Captain Sisko, acting as the Emissary, was occupying a seat of importance next to the Orb. Everyone was holding a single red taper candle and the entire space was lit by the glow of candlelight.

Sam had been to services in the temple before. Kira had generously invited her when she expressed an interest ages ago. It really was a lovely religion. Full of ritual and meditation. Sam considered it part of her ongoing education. After all, faith was all in your point of view. And the universe was full of different ones. How else do people learn about one another unless they explore all points of view?

She was suitably outfitted in deep crimson dress. The cut mimicked that of traditional Bajoran fashion so that she would have passed for a native save for her lack of nose ridges. The service was about to begin when Julian suddenly appeared at her left. She looked up with a soft smile and scooted over on the bench so he could sit next to her. He sat quickly, looking very unsure as he fiddled with the tapper in his hands. She reached over and guided his candle wick to touch hers which was already lit. It caught fire and she released it and they turned their attention to the Vedek who conducted the opening prayers. 

When the service was over, Julian walked out with Sam into the bright station lights of the Prominade. “That really was lovely.”

“You sound surprised,” she replied.

“No, I’ve just never been to a Bajoran service before,” he admitted. “I wasn’t really sure what to expect.”

“It’s a lot like Buddhism, minus Buddha. With a Pah-wraiths and orbs and a wormhole thrown in,” Sam mused then reconsidered, “Actually, it not that much like Buddhism.”

“Are you Doctor Bashir?”

They both turned at the softly asked query and found a small Bajoran woman standing there. Her sunny, blonde hair peeked out from beneath the fine red scarf that covered her head. Her blue eyes were rimmed red, but her gaze held steady.

“Yes,” Julian answered tentatively.

The woman smiled graciously, “Ah. I am Laan Julla. Stavva is my daughter.”

He recognized the name and the face of the little girl popped into his mind. Blonde, like her mother, he could see the resemblance. One of the cruelest fates in the universe was for a parent to bury a child. Julian swallowed, but was unable to say anything. No words seemed adequate.

It was Sam who answered, saving him from stumbling over a reply, “I am so sorry for your loss. Stavva was a beautiful little girl.”

“Yes,” Laan acknowledged, “She was the light of my world… now she will be my star in the sky.” She paused and took Julian’s hands in her own, “I wanted to thank you, doctor.”

“Thank me?” he shook his head in confusion, “I only wish there was more I could have done for her.”

“When the Prophets call us home to the celestial temple, there is nothing any of us can do except answer. I wasn’t there when Stavva was called, but you were. I wanted to thank you for staying with her.” Laan smiled though her tears, “I can see you have a very kind pagh and I am so very grateful that it was you by her side.”

The petite woman hugged him, “May the Prophets walk with you, doctor.”

Humbled, Julian hugged her back, “And with you.”

“Mothers are the strongest creatures in the galaxy,” Sam murmured as they watched Laan weave back into the crowd, greeting people who had come in support of her and the other mourners. She took hold of Julian’s hand, “Are you alright?”

“No,” was his honest reply, “But I will be.”

Sam nodded, her understanding, “We are all going to meet up in Quark’s, just for a quiet drink. Nothing too draining… there’s a place for you, if you want to come.”

“Another time,” Julian replied. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was feeling, no longer angry or sorrowful. Perhaps he was on his way to closure, only time would tell. 

A concerned frown creased her brow, “You’re not going back to the Infirmary?”

“No, I’m taking personal time for the next two days,” he smiled at the approval reflected in her gaze. As a doctor, he was usually in the caretaker role. It was admittedly nice, to be on the receiving end. 

She sighed in relief, “Well then, I’ll try to avoid any potential catastrophes for the next few days.”

“I’d appreciate that.” He dropped a light kiss on her cheek, “Thank you.”

As Sam watched Julian walk away, grateful for the glimmer of hope she had seen reignite in his eyes.


End file.
